


interrupted connection

by beenomorph



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, the thing is theyre gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 11:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13339935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beenomorph/pseuds/beenomorph
Summary: “Aw, hell,” that same voice responded again, now bashful, “Now this ain’t right, is it?”There was a bit more static on the line- cut through after just a moment by the quiet huffs of Devrim’s laughter.“Mark,” he says, the smile clear in his voice even over comms, “How did you manage to intercept our comms?”





	interrupted connection

It was a ghastly day- the overcast sky painted the crumbling town of Trostland a muggy grey, a rolling fog distorting the horizon and making everything damp. From where he was perched atop the rusty, exposed staircase of an old building, Jonquil-9 shivered- well, as close an approximation as an Exo can shiver, anyhow, joints vibrating to keep from freezing stuck.

“Hell of a day for patrols, isn’t it?” he said, waving lazily towards the distant church, a landmark against the otherwise monotonous backdrop of the winter EDZ. Through his comms came a gentle laugh, a quiet hum.

“Right you are, friend,” was Devrims response, “Though you can’t really complain yourself, Jonquil, you signed up for this.”

“ _ Before  _ I’d read the weather reports, I might add,” the Exo responded, looking over the gun in his hands as he shuffled on his feet. “I wanted to stretch my legs, Devrim, not freeze them off.” 

That much was true, anyhow. Jonquil was a man of study, yes- he kept his office in the tower nowadays; tending to his plants, to his studies, to the insurmountable pile of field reports and enemy intel- but he was still a Guardian, still yearned for adventure and action. Granted, patrols weren’t the best way to scratch that itch, but it was something to occupy his down time, and, the EDZ was proving to be a far more interesting place than the Cosmodrome had been, in terms of studying local plant life. 

“Remind me, where did I need to go, again?” 

“I’ll send the coordinates your way,” Devrim responded, and Jonquil quietly summoned his Ghost, Tazetta, to his side as he waited for Devrim to finish. “It’s easy work, today- just need you to scout a bit further north of Trostland. We’ve been having some trouble with Fallen scavengers as of late, they just can’t seem to keep their claws off of our supplies, as it were.” Jonquil tutted softly.

“A shame,” he said, and Devrim hummed in agreement.

“If you would, that area needs secured- we’ve got work to do expanding the patrol network, and--”

At that moment, a sharp bark of static cut through the line, and Jonquil flinched alongside Tazetta.

“What was  _ that?”  _ she huffed, petals of her shell turning about indignantly, at the same moment as another voice cut in.

“--evrim? Hold on, Devrim, I think I messed up the tunin’ again. You there?” an unfamiliar voice cut through the static.

Jonquil paused, sharing a sidelong glance with Tazetta before shuffling awkwardly, “Hello? Devrim? We still transmitting?”

“Aw, hell,” that same voice responded again, now bashful, “Now this ain’t right, is it?” 

There was a bit more static on the line- cut through after just a moment by the quiet huffs of Devrim’s laughter.

“Mark,” he says, the smile clear in his voice even over comms, “How did you manage to  _ intercept our comms?”  _

“I was just trying to call!” the southern-twanged voice that, by now, Jonquil has of course surmised to be none other than the elusive Mark Kay lamented, “I followed all the instructions you left and, uh, well, maybe I pressed a few extra buttons wipin’ up this coffee I spilled, and,  _ let me tell you,  _ this console does  _ not  _ like having coffee spilled on it-”

“ _ You’re  _ Mark?” Tazetta blurts over the comms, finally, and he clicks his tongue in response.

“The very same! And you’d be one of Dev’s Guardian friends, then?” 

“That’d be me,” Jonquil interjected, shuffling down the slick stairwell and into the covered portion of the building as mist gave way to rain, “I’m Jonquil.” 

“Jonquil!” Mark interjects suddenly, surprise in his voice, “Jonquil. I know that. My grandma’s favorite flowers, you know,”

“They are?” Jonquil asked, voice warm, “That’s lovely!”

“You’d bet. She was a lovely lady, after all.” There’s a pause in the conversation- Jonquil hears Devrim begin to speak, before being interrupted by Mark charging on, “Jonquil...I know that name, don’t I? You’re the one Dev’s always speakin’ gibberish to, right?” 

“It’s not gibberish, dear,” Devrim huffed softly, embarrassed, “Jonquil is a xeno-culturalist. We discuss Fallen dialects, from time to time.” 

“Well, color me impressed. I barely got a hold on two human languages, you know I’d be lost with an alien one.”

“What gives us the pleasure of having patrols interrupted today, Mark?” Devrim sighs, not unkindly- in fact, there’s an overwhelming soft affection in his gentle tones that make Jonquil feel like he’s intruding on something private. Presently, Jonquil shakes rain from his robes, thinking that it’s a good thing he wore something water-resistant today.

“Oh!” Mark says, as if suddenly realizing there was work being done, work he was interrupting, “Oh, hell. I was just callin’ to make sure Suraya got my last package out to you, is all. Got my hands on some new tea- spiced somethin’ or other- wanted to know what you thought…” he paused, “And Jonquil? Can you make sure he puts on the coat I sent him?”

“I, uh,” Jonquil began surprised to have the conversation turn back to him, “I can sure try, Mark, but I can’t-” he continued, laughter in his voice, before being interrupted once more. 

“I assure you, the tea keeps me warm enough! Someone else could use the coats and blankets moreso than I,” was Devrim’s resigned response, to which Mark only tutted.

“Nobody needs it any more than you do, sweetheart. I’ve seen the weather reports, you know! You lose your fingers to frostbite, who’s gonna be the city’s most  _ dashing  _ gentleman sniper?” Mark coos, an obvious attempt to embarrass his partner. Jonquil can basically  _ hear  _ his smirk, hear the way he flutters his eyelashes.

“ _ Alright _ ,” Devrim concedes, his exasperated tone of voice proving that Mark’s attempt had succeeded.

“Not to cut this short,” Jonquil says, watching fat raindrops splat against the cracked glass of the building he was holed up in’s window, “But I need to get this Fallen thing cleared up before sky really falls down. Any chance you could kick me those coordinates, Devrim?” 

“Oh, look at me, takin’ up all your time,” Mark sighed, “I’ll let you two off the hook for now, but Jonquil?” 

“Yes?” 

“I sure thank you for keeping my husband safe out there. You keep up the good work, you hear?”

Jonquil huffed a quiet laugh, “I hear you,”

“Good. I’ll call you back later, Dev-- No, actually? You call me, I don’t wanna derail another one of your missions on accident. Love ya, darlin’!” he chirped, and his line cut to static.

After a beat of silence, Tazetta stirred.

“He’s like a whirlwind, isn’t he?” she said fondly, petals twisting as she shook off a few drops of rain. Devrim laughed gently, warmly,

“You should see him before his morning coffee,” he hummed, tone distant, as if he was lost in thought.

At long last, Jonquil exited the building he’d been occupying, beginning the long, damp trek northward towards the Fallen camp. 

“It’s been a while since you’ve seen each other, hasn’t it?” Jonquil says, finally.

“It has.” Devrim affirms sadly,  “I meant to… It's been hard to find the time. I spend most of my days in Trostland, now, he’s busy in the City…” he sighs, comms cutting static around the sound, “I hardly have the time to visit the City, and it’s not yet safe enough for him to visit here.”

“Yet,” Jonquil says, turning to offer a nod to the church in the distance, “But that’s why we’re out here, right?” 

Devrim chuckled, a bittersweet sound, “Right you are, friend,” he said again, and Jonquil wondered distantly how the same phrase could feel so different,“Right you are.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> its like... 2am. felt like writing something, you know, just because i am emotional over these 2 old husbands and have some Mark Headcanons i want to get down. probably there will be another chapter to this in the future. for now u can check out this art i did of mark and devrim on tumblr [ http://rewhined.tumblr.com/post/167538011373 ]


End file.
